


Part 7: Paperwork

by kw20742



Series: Something Like Love [8]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Minor Character Death, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kw20742/pseuds/kw20742
Summary: Continued scene: Immediately after Jocelyn receives the phone call from Andrew Darlington at the care home in episode 2.6.





	Part 7: Paperwork

**Author's Note:**

> Continued scene: Immediately after Jocelyn receives the phone call from Andrew Darlington at the care home in episode 2.6.

 

Maggie knows something’s wrong before Jocelyn has even turned back around. A journalist’s keen instinct combined with years of furtive admiration of one particularly brilliant and stunning QC, has made reading Jocelyn’s subtle body language chief among Maggie’s many skills. And whoever was on the other end of that phone call just now has given her some truly devastating news.

“Jocelyn?” Maggie almost whispers, approaching her from behind and reaching a gentle hand to her shoulder.

Jocelyn starts, coming back to the reality of the courthouse lobby. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I…” Turning round, she explains to Ben, “There’s been an emergency. Nothing to do with the case,” she assures him. “But I’ve got to go.”

Her eyes plead silently with Maggie, who steps immediately into action.

“Right. You tell me where to.”

Jocelyn falters a moment, looking from Ben to Maggie and then back at Ben again. “We’ve got so much to do. It can’t wait.”

“That’s no problem,” Ben readily promises, “I’ll get started here, and you can call me when you’re able.” He nods confidently, repeating, reassuring, “It’s no problem. You go.”  
  
Surprised by his unquestioning kindness and fearing her stoic façade will crack if she tries to speak, Jocelyn offers Ben a dignified thank you by way of a quiet nod, turns swiftly on the heel of her very sensible black pump, and heads for the car park.

Maggie smiles at Ben approvingly. In ways too numerous to count, Jocelyn must be an absolute tyrant to work with, but Ben has shown he can more than handle her, and she _does_ seem to inspire loyalty in her juniors somehow. With a nod of reassurance and grateful smile, Maggie quickly but warmly grasps his forearm before chasing after Jocelyn.

She catches up to her just as she’s heading down the front steps to the car park. “Where’re we off too, then?” Although Maggie’s already guessed: Something’s happened to Veronica.

“Not here,” Jocelyn whispers, her eyes focused straight ahead. While still on campus at Wessex Crown Court Complex, a QC must remain a QC.

Just managing to keep up with Jocelyn’s long, hurried strides, Maggie says no more and points in the direction of her trusty Vauxhall.  
  
Once they’re in the car, Maggie asks, softly, “What’s happened?”  
  
“Mum’s had a fall,” states Jocelyn matter-of-factly, looking straight ahead. “She didn’t make it.” Jocelyn turns to face Maggie, tears spilling over. And when Maggie takes her hand, she lets out a muffled sob.

Maggie squeezes Jocelyn’s hand as tightly as she can in her own, as if to say, “I know, sweetheart. I know it hurts. I’m here.” Maggie’s been through it: losing her dad was slow and harrowing, and even after thirty years, she still misses him every day.

Releasing Jocelyn’s grip, she reaches across her to pop open the glove box, grabs a couple of crumpled napkins, and shoves them into Jocelyn’s hands. Her keys in the ignition, she reminds her, “Put your seatbelt on.”

 

***

They drive the forty-five minutes back to Broadchurch in silence, broken only by Jocelyn, who directs Maggie when they reach the interchange, “make a left at the next light,” to which Maggie good-naturedly replies, “I know.”

Of course. Jocelyn had momentarily forgotten that it was actually Maggie who had researched and ultimately recommended this particular care facility. And that she, too, visits her mum regularly. Visited. Past tense now.

She glances over at Maggie, who probably thinks she’s upset because her mum’s died. And that’s part of it, of course. But mostly it’s the shame. At being even a little bit happy to not have to deal with all this anymore. Honestly, she’s just relieved. To be free of the bills, the bureaucracy, the red tape, the visits. With a mum who doesn't recognize her. And hasn’t for some time now. That’s been the hardest part. They had been so close, more like friends. Especially since Jocelyn’s father died.

She silently chastises herself: What sort of daughter is glad at the death of her mum? Sharon was right: She _is_ barely bloody human. There used to be a heartbeat. Somewhere in here, in this body that’s attached to her very smart brain. Emotions. Love. Passion. For something other than work. She wants all that back again but isn’t sure how to make the uphill journey. It’s been too long. And it’s far too frightening. All these feelings.

Maggie turns the car into the driveway as Jocelyn readies her long legs to jump hastily out. Pointing to the circle over on the left in front of the main door, she says, “Drop me just at the curb, there, please.” Best let Maggie get back to her work. Plus, this is all about to be very much her private business.

Glancing over at Jocelyn and knowing she may well be poking a bear, Maggie disobeys, goes right instead of left, and turns her attention to signs for the car park.

“Maggie, _please_.” Jocelyn has no patience for Maggie’s kindhearted bullying at this moment. “Just drop me off. You needn’t stay.”

“I know.” Maggie eases the car up to the automated ticket machine and grabs the date-stamped bit of paper. “But I’m going to.” She hands the ticket to Jocelyn for safekeeping and heads for the nearest parking spot. Really, she is so irritatingly stubborn.

Jocelyn starts to object again, but Maggie interrupts, “You’ll need a ride home.” That’s just plain common sense. Logical. And logic should do it. Jocelyn likes logic, likes for things to make sense. 

As Maggie eases the car into a space, she hears Jocelyn renew her protest (“I can call a taxi.”), turns off the ignition, and looks over at her. “Look, I’m here already.” Maggie places a tender hand on the top of her arm, urging with those clear, blue eyes, “Just in case.”

Truthfully, Jocelyn is grateful. And relieved. And she wonders again, not for the first time in these last few weeks, how it’s possible that Maggie is still here. Beside her. Part of her life. Goodness knows she’s given her plenty of reasons not to be, told her to go away enough bloody times. Left her that New Year’s Day without saying goodbye. But here she is anyway. Maggie Radcliffe, her friend. Jocelyn knows that she doesn’t deserve even that, but wants so much more anyway.

She ponders her own fingers in her lap. She’s shredded the now-damp napkins to unrecognizable bits as she contemplates what Maggie will hear once they go inside. There will be excruciatingly humiliating talk of the outstanding bill. £14,000! She exhales, eyes to the roof of the car, not quite able to take in how she let it all get that out of hand. There will be arrangements to be made, paperwork to sign. And Maggie knows as well as she does that Jocelyn, ever the legal professional, will _not_ sign paperwork without reading it first. Which she might not be able to do as thoroughly as she’d like.

Bloody hell, this needing of other people!

Still, if she has to rely on someone, at least it’s Maggie. How ironic, she thinks not for the first time, that a barrister so unwaveringly trusts a journalist not to reveal her secrets.

She glances at Maggie, who knows that a warm smile and slight nod substitute for an unspoken but profound “thank you.”


End file.
